


Inconvenient

by CrypticRise



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 20:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20972816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticRise/pseuds/CrypticRise
Summary: Tony Stark doesn't have a type.





	Inconvenient

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/gifts).

> Written as a thank you to sabrecmc for providing me with endless hours of reading in my favorite fandom. I have read everything you have written and if you ever write original fic, I will be first in line to buy!

Tony really doesn't have a type. Well beautiful. But hard to expect anything else when Tony Stark literally has his pick of lovers. The choosing of a lover though is an almost impersonal egalitarian process, a rote favor bestowed on an adoring public.

A smile, a few words whispered and they follow him out, like Christmas had come early. Its all so effortless.

Steve in comparison always feels too big for his skin as he watches from across the room, a vast divide of crystal and muted tinkling laughter and the strains of waltzes from bygone eras.

Once, Clint had placed a friendly hand on his shoulder, observing "This is the world he was born for. It's easy to forget isn't it?" He was not wrong.

So no, Tony doesn't have a type.

And whatever type they are, they are never around for longer than a night.

Still.

There's a clenching in the pit of his stomach that Steve steadfastly refuses to acknowledge when he occasionally runs into one of them at the tower.

This morning is no different.

The lithe young man with a shock of brown curls trailing into impossibly green eyes and bee stung lips is smiling at something Tony says. His entire body listing forward on the bar stool, chin tilted up as he watches Tony prepare a plate, an acolyte with his master. There is a liminal quality to the dawn light spilling in through the tower's bay windows into the kitchen. It deepens the shadows around Tony, throwing the younger man in sharp relief, his skin glowing where Tony's red robe has slipped off one shoulder.

Its a renaissance painting, a contrast in power and adoration.

Steve's hand itches to draw it, somehow capture the magnetism Tony exudes, the brilliance in his eyes, the sharp knowing smile and that tilt to his head that is both predatory and satisfied feline.

"Hey Cap, can I make you one?" Tony's tone is easy and warm, breaks Steve's reverie.

Shaking the cobwebs clear Steve steps forward, his expression relaxed, throwing what he hopes is a friendly smile in the general direction of green eyes.

"Thanks but I picked up something," the brown bag in his hand is slightly greasy from the breakfast burrito, he holds it in front of him like a shield hoping he won't be dragged into this but knowing he won't leave.

"Come join us, meet Jake," Tony's dropping a plate in front of Jake and pulling up another bar stool for Steve. "Jake, Steve Rogers or you know, Captain America" Tony is grinning.

Close up Jake is even more beautiful, with thick lashes framing wide set eyes and cream for skin.

"Captain its good to meet you." There's a faint flush on high cheek bones as he draws up his robes.

Young, beautiful _and_ artless.

"Steve, please." His handshake is a bit weak, Steve thinks uncharitably.

He has a dazed look about him that Steve recognizes too well. Jake's eyes track Tony's movements, his body angling unconsciously towards him.

"Jake's an artist Cap, told him that was your gig," Tony ruffles Jake's curls semi-affectionately, fingers trailing down his face in a slight acknowledgement of the beauty so freely offered. He moves past him grabbing a tablet, settling in at the end of the island clutching a coffee mug. Steve doesn't miss the way Jake had leaned into the touch.

Sighing inwardly, he takes pity on the man.

"Tell me Jake, what's your study?" It takes a bit of prompting to get him to open up. A little more, to stop the wistful longing looks thrown at an oblivious Tony who is now tapping away rapidly on a Starkpad, muttering what Steve assumes are instructions to JARVIS under his breath.

By the time the burrito is finished, Jake has lost his self-conscious air and his eyes are clear as he talks animatedly about his work as a restoration artist for NYU's archival collections.

Steve likes him.

The annoying thing is Steve can't help but like most of Tony's lovers. They are generally pleasant, often interesting and always have more substance than Steve likes to attribute to the social sets that throng around Tony. It remains a mystery why Tony never gets serious with any of them. The thing with Pepper was far in the past now.

Steve assumes it will only be a matter of time. He ignores the tightness in his chest.

"I think I better go." Jake is smiling, slightly sheepish. "Thanks for the company Captain."

"Pleasure’s mine, was good meeting you."

He tries and fails to not observe the farewell.

Jake puts a hand on Tony's shoulder, who looks up at him with a sweet warm smile. His eyes crinkle and smile lines bracket his mouth. Tony places his tablet down and draws Jake between his legs, one hand splayed across the supine curve of the younger man's spine and the other tilting his chin up to kiss him, lingering and deep. Steve doesn’t need super soldier hearing to pick up on the moan that escapes Jake. The way his pupils are blown.

Steve’s mouth is dry at the study in contrasts, the warm olive of Tony’s skin seeming to breathe rosy life into his young lover, the flush across Jake's cheeks, the way he holds Tony's shoulders as if to anchor himself and the shy smile with down swept lashes as Tony whispers something to him.

Lysander helplessly smitten by beautiful Puck, Steve thinks. Objectively or not the scene is stunningly erotic. Deep reds and ebony punctuated with cream, in oil. If he had to capture it.

Shaking himself with a rueful smile at his own idiocy he puts away the remnants of his breakfast as Tony walks Jake out. There's only so much self-destructive behavior he can engage in before the day has even started.

He's waiting for the coffee to refill when Natasha walks in dressed in workout gear, a bottle of water in one hand. She takes one look at him, opens her mouth to say something then thinks better of it and simply half hugs him in commiseration. Steve stopped feeling embarrassed at how easily she reads his inconvenient feelings a while ago.

By the time Tony is back, the kitchen is populated with the team in various states of dishabille going through the familiar noisy paces of breakfast. Steve watches Tony argue with Clint over the last cup of coffee, steal a forkful of Bruce’s pancakes and slide in next to him.

“Jake liked you.”

“Of course he did. I’m a likable guy.”

There’s a short huff of laughter. Tony bumps his shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Thanks Cap.” It remains unspoken what he’s being thanked for. Steve thinks he should resent it. But he doesn’t.

Instead he sits there absorbing the warmth of having Tony by his side and the peaceful domesticity of the moment.

Maybe this will be enough, he thinks.


End file.
